We had a clear arrangement, you and I.
We even talked about it. About boundaries. I set them early and have mentioned them often. I know I’m not always the most direct creature out there but this one rule was written in stone for years.
It’s not like I don’t have respect for you. I do. I think you are actually pretty incredible. The contributions you make to the environment, the ecosystem, the world? They are not to be lessened.
But that doesn’t make us friends.
Your importance and your impact on the world doesn’t mean that you are welcome in my house. My respect doesn’t translate into me feeling safe with you. Just because I think piranhas are interesting creatures doesn’t mean I want to swim with them. I can’t live without your existence, but I need my distance.
We had a deal. You stay in your world. My apartment was always off limits to you. Always.
But I’m a reasonable person, even open to a shadowed presence, living in perfect synchronized motions, my obliviousness to your existence an acceptable arrangement. You could stay as long as you were an invisible roommate. I compromised.
We talked. You chose to disregard my needs and flaunt yourself in front of me. Get aggressively in my personal space. And not just once, but two days in a row. Even after I reminded you of our unspoken symbiotic relationship. I warned you.
So I had to go to the extreme… but you pushed me there.
I don’t like the person you made me become. Even the most passive person, when pushed to the edge, will fight. Survival instinct, right? There’s a dark violence in me that I didn’t know existed. That I didn’t WANT to know existed. But we are all capable of such, and yesterday you made me channel my base inclinations.
A red haze of desire to survive made me lash out, like a depraved cornered animal.
And I feel terrible, and don’t know how to get over it.
I’m so sorry I had to smash you with a shoe, spider.
But you shouldn’t have been in my house.